


Noontide

by theartfulroger



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Alternate Canon, By that I mean 'Jack's tribe is successful and Ralph is not', Drabble, Implied Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartfulroger/pseuds/theartfulroger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Roger have found heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noontide

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore far below Castle Rock was what woke Roger. The air was still and warm and the sun beat down unwaveringly. He stood up and stretched his limbs to their full length, yawning. The yawn produced a mewling sound from his throat. 

Littluns babbled somewhere near him. He swiveled around and glanced at the group sitting in the shade of the thin rock brush. The brats had cracked open a large, green fruit with bright orange, dribbling meat inside and were pulling out handfuls of the orange insides. He suddenly realized how dry his mouth was and made his way over to them, swiping the fruit from their little hands and sticking his face into the orange nook of it. The littluns watched him eat with a sort of fascination on faces covered in dried paint. The fruit was cold and sweet, and after a few bites he returned it to the them.

He ran a hand through his mussed, oily hair and licked the remaining fruit juice off his lips. They felt chapped and dry and licking them provided only momentary relief. Roger stepped out from the brush, where he then saw who he was looking for. 

Jack had grown only more beautiful in these past months or or weeks or even only days, whichever they were. His freckled skin was blotched with sunburn, but most had tanned to a muted gold. And even more freckles had cropped up, especially on his forearm and stomach, making him look like a spotted jungle beast. His bright red hair approached the nape of his neck in shaggy tufts. The red and black paint on his face was peeling, but Roger didn't think his chief really needed it.

"Roger," Jack said, turning around from his crosslegged position on the boulder he sat upon. There was no "hello" said in his greeting, but Roger could hear the greeting in the tone of voice. Roger nodded at him. 

Jack stood up. He stood taller than what was mounted on a stick buried in the thin dirt beside him. The head faced the sea, leaving those on Castle Rock to look at the back of its ragged blond hair. It kept out intruders, or so Jack had told the littluns. Roger smiled to himself at the memory of catching it in the burning forest. But that was merely a memory, and now Jack was taller than it. 

"Did you eat already?"

"Fruit," Roger said absentmindedly. Jack drew closer to him, reaching to briefly touch Roger's shoulder. He leaned forward and pressed a dry-lipped kiss to the corner of Roger's mouth. Roger could feel his smile against his skin. 

"Let's gather a hunt," he said. Roger slipped his hand into Jack's and the pair stepped back into the brush to rally the littluns.


End file.
